


About jawbreakers and gobstoppers

by DauntlessSubconscious



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/M, Prompt Fic, Some Fluff, Some angst, if you squint there's plot, wickedlywonderfulweekofreylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7130648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DauntlessSubconscious/pseuds/DauntlessSubconscious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is a jawbreaker,” Ben had said with all the solemnity his eleven years could grant him, holding the multicolored candy high between his index finger and thumb.</p><p>But this was Rey he was arguing with, and little did he know, back then, how determined she could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About jawbreakers and gobstoppers

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, second day of the Wickedly Wonderful Week of Reylo.  
> Tuesday's prompt: jawbreakers  
> As usual, a huge thanks to rachel_greatest, who despite being super busy, made the time to make this look pretty :)
> 
> Enjoy!

“This is a jawbreaker,” Ben had said with all the solemnity his eleven years could grant him, holding the multicolored candy high between his index finger and thumb.

 

But this was Rey he was arguing with, and little did he know, back then, how determined she could be.

 

“No...” She’d taken the offending item from him and imitating his stance, she’d proceeded to give him a piece of her mind. “This is a gobstopper.” 

 

Ben hadn’t taken Rey seriously at first, and really, how could he? She might have an opinion for everything, but that didn’t change the fact that she was the seven year old who’d just moved to the States with her family from England; she was a loud, pigtailed girl, barely out of kinder while he was well on the way to junior high. They were obviously in different leagues. However, the odds weren’t in Ben’s favor, since he’d clearly underestimated Rey’s innate charm; so despite his initial confidence, soon enough, he’d been forced to admit that the girl had gone quickly from a nuisance to a real threat for him.

 

“Can I play?” She would ask every afternoon, when the rest of the kids from the block left the confines of their homes with loud yelps of glee, a celebration of freedom from to their finished homework. 

 

“Of course, sunshine,” Poe always replied and he got a beaming smile in return that had Ben rolling his eyes, sometimes even scoffing, depending on how aggravated he was by her presence that day.

 

It had taken Ben a while to accept she was there to stay, and even more to realize she didn’t mean to steal his friends. 

 

He begrudgingly admitted to himself that maybe she wasn’t so bad after all while under the effects of painkillers in that hospital bed. They’d been playing hide and seek in ol’ Maz’s fields, the bright, summer day too alluring to be spent inside. The dry, yellow grass reached all the way up to his thighs and the glare of midday sun had prevented him from seeing the large gap in the soil. He’d tumbled down the hill and landed on the bottom of the ravine covered in dust, his exposed skin burnt by the gravel. The searing pain, unlike anything he’d experienced before, made him look, and that couldn’t possibly be the anatomically correct position for his leg. Everything had turned black when he’d tried to stand up.

 

“Your son is lucky, there’s no head trauma, even though he will have to keep the cast for the rest of the summer,” the doctor had said in a quiet voice, probably thinking he was still asleep.

 

He heard footsteps approaching him after his mother’s relieved voice thanked the physician. 

 

He could smell his father’s aftershave and the scent gave him the calm he hadn’t known he needed. “You hear that, kid? No pool for you this summer...”

 

“Han…” His mother chastised him, and Ben could picture just fine the apprehensive look on her face. “Thank goodness for Rey,” she said, her words breaking a little, “he could still be out there if she hadn’t found him.”

 

“Hey, sweetheart, he’s gonna be fine,” Han reassured his wife. “Guess this turns Rey one of the cool kids now, huh?”

 

_ Maybe _ , had been Ben’s last thought before falling asleep for good.

 

Rey had been ten years old when the time to pay his debt had come. 

 

Charity Lewis appeared to be the perfect girl to any unsuspecting onlooker. Sandy blond hair, face of an angel, excellent grades. Nobody in their right mind would have thought that behind the polite, young lady facade lay an unhappy camper, and that was in a best case scenario. Not long after Miss Congeniality had started in their school, Ben had noticed the changes in Rey; she’d gone from outgoing and generally kind to snappy and introverted in the blink of an eye, even with her closest friends. 

 

People usually thought that Ben was way too preoccupied with his own world and, in his father’s words, he spent an unsavory amount of time brooding; self-absorbed was the politically correct term, his mother had pointed out. Ben did not care for gossip, that much was true; he’d always considered it stupid and unproductive, but he kept tabs on the people he cared about. He wasn’t exactly nice, but he wasn’t a jerk either.

 

Silly of him, yes, but he’d approached Rey about it and saying that it hadn’t gone smoothly was an understatement. 

 

Later, while lying on his bed and pondering about his astounding failure, he’d come to the conclusion he couldn’t expect Rey to trust him over night. A quick recollection of events was enough for him to see he hadn’t been on his best behaviour when it came to his next door neighbor. Wondering why, though, had the potential to be a dangerous question to ask, so he’d saved himself the trouble of opening that can of worms. He owed Rey one and he would match the tallies, simple as that.

 

It had only taken him a few days of paying attention to see that Charity dearest was making Rey’s life miserable with snide comments about her looks. He’d found her crying one morning under the bleachers and he didn’t need any explanation to know what was going on.

 

Ben had learned then that timing was an important factor, especially while dealing with sensitive matters like assuring Charity Lewis that if he ever found out about any other aggression towards Rey, he would personally make sure that her perfectly coiffed life made a steady descent into hell. Also, he’d made note of the fact that venue was a relevant issue as well, since the library wasn’t exactly a private place to carry out such deeds. Oh, boy had he learned all that when Rey nearly tackled him—never mind their height difference—demanding to know who’d given him permission for intruding her life.

 

“I can take care of myself,” she’d said, reminding him she could be a spitfire, to only leave him and his reddened ears in awe as she walked away.

 

A full week of alternating between sulking and  _ I don’t even know why I bother _ later, he’d opened his locker to find a folded paper resting over his History book with two simple, handwritten words on it.  _ Thank you _ . A genuine smile appeared on his face and he’d ignored the loud bell in favor of sticking the note to his locker door with extra care.

 

By the time she entered in her teens, their relationship had improved to the point of not yelling at each other after any provocation and he’d remember fondly the impossibly cold days spent in Poe’s living room, oblivious to the blizzard outside while playing video games beside that gigantic fireplace, or the summers when they alternated between his pool and Finn’s, staying outside well after dusk, listening to the buzzing of fireflies.

 

Ben had just turned seventeen when he learned about the unpredictability of life. Rey had been ecstatic with the fundraiser that the company his father worked for was organizing. It was an all-family kind of thing and the first one she got to attend; she’d talked about it until exhaustion. 

 

The shrill of the phone had driven him and Poe out of their awful-movie induced stupor. Ben was convinced he’d never forget how the expression on his mother face became more somber with every passing second until the phone had slipped from her hands, and then his father had taken over the situation. Ben had never seen his friend cry before, despite the vast amount of scraped knees and sprained wrists they’d collected over the years.

 

“I gotta get home and tell my parents,” Poe’d said, looking ashen and lost. He’d hidden his trembling hands in his jacket pockets and started walking, disappearing in the darkness of the street.

 

Despite being close to adulthood, Ben felt like a child in that moment, his eyes searching for guidance between his mother and father.

 

“Put some shoes on, Ben. We’re going to the hospital,” Han had said, the gravity of the statement irreconcilable with his father’s usual aloofness.

 

The pristine walls and the stinging smell of antiseptic had greeted them and it had been his mother who managed the debacle from that moment on. Hours went by, the relentlessness of time beating his body down to into an uncomfortable chair and all he could think about was his father’s voice talking about the drunken driver.

 

“Ben’s got a flight for tonight, he must be boarding the plane as we speak,” and that had been his uncle Luke’s voice… When had he gotten here? 

 

Ben looked up at the mention of his name, but it all made sense in his mind after a minute. Luke was talking about Ben Kenobi, his namesake and Rey’s grandfather. He had faint memories of the man, a golden beard tinged with white and kind, blue eyes. A flurry of movement had interrupted his thoughts and his eyes followed the steps of his parents. A doctor in OR scrubs and a neutral face was explaining that there was nothing they could’ve done for the couple, it had been too late.

 

Ben had stared at that nondescript clock on the wall of the waiting room, understanding what this meant. Rey’s parents would never see another second tick into the next one. They wouldn’t be there for her graduation or her college years, they wouldn’t be able to advise her, to hold her if she failed. They were gone.

 

He took a deep breath and another one, and then…

 

“What about Rey?,” he’d asked and for the first time in his life, he couldn’t care less if every set of eyes was fixated on him. 

 

“She just got out of surgery. We managed to stop the internal bleeding, but we must also monitor her head trauma. I’m afraid that for now, all we can do is wait.”

 

Of course he hadn’t been allowed to see her, but the ICU was a quiet place at night and even if it weren’t, he would have found the way to sneak in. 

 

As soon as he’d reached and entered the room, Ben wished he hadn’t. 

 

She might be sleeping, if it weren’t for the insane amount of wires, tubes, and needles attached to her body; her usually tanned skin, pallid under the fluorescent lights and marred with small cuts everywhere. The image before him did awful things in his mind, branding this moment as a milestone; these were the pictures, the kind of experiences that people used to talk about  _ before and after _ , he was sure.

 

Life’s unpredictability rivaled with its unfairness, because Rey might not make it, but it was Monday and he had to go to school, the day was sinfully sunny, the people in the street were laughing, the shops opened at their regular time… Rey might not make it, her parents were dead and the world simply kept turning.

 

The world might not care, but Rey had pulled through—she was fighter and stubborn as a mule, he knew that much.

 

That dinner was pointless, he’d decided somewhere between his shower and tying up his Converse. They couldn’t exactly call it a farewell, the word was loaded with somber meanings still; it certainly wasn’t a celebration. It was just a prorogation of the inevitable: she was going away, far across the Atlantic to live with her grandfather and there was nothing to be done about it.

 

He’d known right away where to find her when he’d entered the house and she’d been nowhere in sight. While climbing the steps up to the treehouse, he’d wished to have some of his mother’s eloquence, since his brain had never been good at finding the right words. That’s why they’d sat side by side in silence for a while, Ben with his long legs stretched before him and his back against the wooden wall while Rey hugged herself and rested her chin over her knees. She’d been crying. Both of them stared into the distance through the makeshift window, way beyond the railway tracks and past the city limits.

 

“Are you gonna miss me?” She’d asked and she might as well be back in that hospital room when her eyes had set over his, for in that gaze there was so much more vulnerability than he’d ever thought possible to find in a courageous creature like Rey.

 

“Yes.”

 

Maybe his simple candor had been enough, maybe it hadn’t. Her flight had departed the next morning; neither of them had said goodbye.

 

Poe and Finn had shared the postcards she used to send at first, but seeing Ben got none, they’d stopped. He’d shrugged like it didn’t matter and moved on, but not really, not fully. When his time to go to college had arrived, he’d pretended that he wasn’t carrying in the bottom of his suitcase those pictures of their younger selves, caked with mud and beaming smiles all around; he’d feigned that there wasn’t something reminiscent of her in each of the few boxes he was taking with him.

 

None of his girlfriends lasted long. He hadn’t been sure if he ought to blame them for expecting something he wasn’t willing to offer, or himself, for trying to search for something he knew he wouldn’t find in them.

 

A cryptic Poe had phoned him on a Friday night, asking if they could meet. When Ben had arrived to the bar, his whole-life friend had already a tumbler in hand and a brown package by his side, roughly the size of a shoe box. After the required bonding and the customary walk through memory lane, Poe had slided the package to him.

 

“Go home,” Poe had said and when Ben recognized the handwriting, he’d only been able to nod.

 

He’d ripped the paper with very little control, the pieces of the wrapping falling carelessly over his recently vacuumed carpet. Barely aware of his ragged breath, he’d found the note first.

 

_ I should’ve sent these sooner. I’m sorry _ .

 

And below the paper containing that half-baked apology, there had been  _ hundreds _ of postcards, all from different places, all of them heavy with ink, all of them from Rey. He should’ve been mad, and he actually had impressed himself with his calm. He’d smiled instead, because Rey had never played fair with him or vice versa; not during those rainy days spent between a deck of cards and her lousy cheats at Hold’em, and certainly not with this. 

 

By the time Finn had gotten to his own graduation, Poe was slowly but surely carving his path in the Air Force and Ben had bought the motorcycle he wanted after saving a few months, disregarding his mother’s threat to disown him if he ever dared to go near one of those  _ hellish machines _ .

 

That weekend, he’d driven to his childhood home like he’d done countless times before. His mother had promised chocolate cake for the delayed celebration of his twenty third birthday and the thought of the woman muttering curses in front of the oven while his dad nursed a beer had made him smile.

 

He parked in the driveway, beside his dad’s vintage car and looked to the house next to his out of habit. He’d thought his eyes were tricking him, but no, his sight remained sharp as usual and he wasn’t losing his mind either, for the Kenobi’s front door was indeed, wide open.

 

He entered the place uninvited and the wooden floor creaked under his boots, unaccustomed to the steps of people after all these years. Most of the windows were open as well and the breeze wafting through them carried the scent of his mother’s jasmines. The stomping on the stairs made him look and there she was, the same girl who used to come up with the most stupid sentences when she got to be Simon; the same deep, hazel eyes, the same freckles crowning the bridge of her nose. She was familiar and a stranger at the same time, she was a woman now and for a moment, he was afraid. He feared her reaction, he feared his; but then, she carelessly dropped the box she was holding and next thing he knew, she was hugging him with all her might. He buried his face in her neck and the world was spinning on its axis again.

 

The embrace remained, bloomed, and she planted a kiss below his ear that made him shudder.

 

“I have something for you,” she whispered and he laughed, because his speech abilities were long gone.

 

After staring at him for a moment, she walked towards the still covered couch and took something from a backpack. Ben wanted to ask a question, to say something, but his mind was a wild buzz as if a rattled bees nest had taken residence up there. 

 

Rey held his hand, palm facing up, and put a round object on it, white with splashes of color. He frowned.

 

“A jawbreaker?”

 

She looked at him through her lashes, that smartass grin curving her lips, begging to be imitated.

 

“Gobstopper, Solo… Gobstopper.”


End file.
